1643
by Aromene
Summary: The first time he watched his father burn a young girl of fifteen, accused of witchcraft at the stake, Carlisle swore he would never be responsible for the death of an innocent.


**Disclaimer: I don't own the character or his history. I don't even own the greater history in general.**

**AN: I blame Charles Mann for this one. From what I can tell 1643 seems to be the generally agreed upon date of Carlisle's birth. So I went with it.**

**It's Breaking Dawn Day! Well, sort of. But I get to see all four movies back-to-back in the theatre today (and into tomorrow), so I'm counting it.**

He was born into an age of winter. Centuries later, paleo-climatologists would spend their afternoons arguing over the specific cause, but the 'Little Ice Age', as it came to be known, plunged Europe into a two hundred year long cold spell.

It had been bitterly cold for weeks; more so than usual that March. Wood was sparse, coal not much better, and most of the inhabitants of London – those that were not enjoying the vast wealth and prosperity that had spread around the world care of Spain – were freezing.

His mother had not been well in the last month of her pregnancy. Even Pastor Cullen's elevated status in the community could only do so much for the bitter temperatures. His wife was already weak when she went into labour. The midwife had not been surprised that she died, but Pastor Cullen had blamed his new born son anyways.

The winter of 1643 lasted until June.

The events of that decade would have little effect on Carlisle Cullen's life after his mother died on the night of his birth. Spain was nearing an economic collapse, but for the time being the rich were still outwardly getting richer. In England, poverty, religion and the weather were the predominant issues facing most of the citizens.

As the son of a respected church official, Carlisle enjoyed more blessings than most, though the vast majority of them were somewhat ruined by an overly stern father and a nurse who disapproved of everything. He therefore led a sheltered childhood, restricted to a small corner of London in an otherwise 'safe' community. Elsewhere in the city and the outer countryside, malaria was already running rampant and the poverty divide was growing larger with each passing year.

Carlisle did not know much about the outside world. He was a child who excelled at being neither seen nor heard and as such was rather proficient at eavesdropping. He had a basic understanding of Europe at large and of the wars that Spain was constantly waging. Of the strife within England and the Holy Roman Empire he knew only a little, but these had little effect on his life. His father was rarely if ever at home and as a child, Carlisle was not privy to anything his father did, beyond church services on Sundays.

He was a quiet, studious child, content to learn the history, languages and politics taught to him by the scholar his father hired when he was six. The dense study of Latin and the history of the church was more than enough to fill the days.

Outside, the world was collapsing into turmoil, but the young Cullen had very little understanding of the importance of those events. The silver mines in South America, a continent Carlisle could barely point to on a map, were running dry. Spain was bankrupt fifty times over and yet still denying it. Disease, poverty and war were running amuck across the planet. England was a sheltered minority, helped along by a conservative government and the fading golden days of Elizabeth the First's reign. The escalating pitched battles of the First Civil War, as it would come to be called, were of little concern to most of the citizens. The poor were too focused on simply surviving and for the middle class it was best, if possible, to stay out of the conflict.

By the end of the decade the Parliamentarians had emerged the victors and England was without a monarchy, though the death of Charles came as something of a shock to many. For the common people, who ruled them was of little to no consequence. Food, shelter and employment topped their list, seconded by religion and a distant third, an interest in a government none of them had ever seen. For the middle class and for the Cullens, London was safe from the Royalists invasions and Cromwell was set to be a good and able leader. Pastor Cullen was most in support of this new form of government, and especially Cromwell's stance on religion. He extrapolated his views at length during Sunday services throughout most of the next ten years.

Carlisle grew more aware of the world at large and England in specific as the years passed. The death of Cromwell and the restoration of the monarchy were seen as both a blessing and a curse to England, depending on who one asked. As his father's son, it was most definitely a curse. By this time Carlisle was already heavily involved in Sunday church services, with every provision to follow in Pastor Cullen's footsteps. Though he held little interest in pursuing a life of religious service, he was a dutiful son and more than willing to please his father, who seemed set to believe that a life of religious devotion might absolve Carlisle of the sin of killing his mother.

As the monarchy resumed its control over England and the rest of the world continued to suffer turmoil after turmoil, Carlisle focused on the teachings of the church, pleasing his father, and discovering the world of the Devil's work, hidden in the sewers of London. Carlisle was in no way disbelieving of his father's views on the supernatural. Nor did he have any qualms about the need to eradicate such evil. However, a childhood bereft of any form of companionship had given him the ability to reflect and analyse, before acting. Pastor Cullen was an impulsive man, quick to judgement and even quicker to action. Carlisle was much more hesitant, especially as he grew older and wiser. He saw things his father did not. And he questioned things his father did not.

The first time he watched his father burn a young girl of fifteen, accused of witchcraft, at the stake, Carlisle swore he would never be responsible for the death of an innocent. He firmly believed witches existed, but Beth Baker, as she was named, was not one of them. His father refused to see reason, as on most occasions, and Carlisle was forced to watch her burn. It left an indelible mark on his psyche.

At twenty-one, Carlisle discovered a group of heathen worshipers who met in a warehouse near the Thames. It was the first time he had ever witnessed a look in his father's eyes that was not hate or blame. Spurred on by the belief that he could, perhaps, make his father proud, despite his sin of birth, he spent more time than strictly proper prowling the lower areas of London, searching for the real supernatural. He would not be responsible for the death of innocents, but true evil must be eradicated, before it caused harmed to the citizens of the city.

It was the next year that the plague struck again, ravaging its way through London. Many who could fled into the countryside, which proved marginally safer. But Pastor Cullen refused to abandon his people and his post, like many other of the clergy. Carlisle remained as well, though he spent most of the summer and autumn confined to the grounds of the church on his father's wishes. Outside the gates London was dying. At night, Carlisle would stand at his window and watch the diggers walking the streets with their carts, to collect the dead and take them to the pits. He watched the poor come begging at the church gates for food and sanctuary, both of which his father denied. It did not take Carlisle long to realise that it was only the middle class parishioners who his father had any care for. But winter eventually came, cold as always, and the plague slowly began to die away. When the King returned to the city in February, the citizens celebrated, believing it finally safe to resume their livelihoods.

Carlisle was quite proud of himself when he uncovered the nest that spring. So proud, in fact, that he did not speak of it to his father; convinced that Pastor Cullen would be extremely pleased if his son were to return with proof of the destruction of several vampires. Carlisle was secure in his knowledge that God and right would protect him from the evil lurking underground.

After the burning, when he awoke to the smell of rotting potatoes and the knowledge of what he had become, there came a very real understanding. He was everything his father had ever accused him of being, but now he was much worse. Once he had sinned by murdering his mother, an act for which he might have earned redemption, at least in his father's eyes. Now he was nothing more than a demon, a dark creature, unredeemable; bereft of God. But that did not mean he was required to do evil acts. Though he was a monster now, he need not act like one.

He tried the sea first. It took only a moment to realise that drowning would not work; he had no need to breathe, though it was slightly disconcerting not to. After the third failed attempt at destroying the evil he had become, Carlisle fled as far from the human villages as he could, to hide himself away. He hoped to starve himself into oblivion, or at least into such weakness that he would be no harm to others.

He hid himself in the countryside south of London. There were enough uninhabited areas that he felt were far enough away from humans to be safe. He found a cave after a few weeks; a wretched hole in the hillside that wasn't fit for anything, except the nest of a starving vampire. Slowly, he weakened, though not nearly as much or as fast as he had hoped. It became very clear after some weeks that he still had the strength to attack a prey, if one presented themselves. Carlisle recoiled at the idea and began to plan where he might go, to avoid all contact with humans.

Many years later he would consider the herd of deer that passed by a gift from a God he had though had abandoned him. It was a chance to survive in the least vile way possible. Bolstered by this knowledge, and full on deer blood, Carlisle fled even further into what wilds were left in England, to begin his afterlife.

It was September of 1666.


End file.
